At 4:15 am, I awoke from a dream
knowing what I was about to hear. In that same instant, I heard the pop
that some women spoke so vividly about. Our time had finally come.
After 41 weeks and 2 days, we were ready.
Not because I felt like a whale and
could barely fit any of my maternity clothes.
Not because I had to make sure that
Brent parked far away enough from the next car so that I could make it out of
the passenger seat.
Not because I was so swollen that I
hadn’t been able to wear my wedding ring for at least the last trimester.
O my wedding ring. I missed it so dearly.
Not because I just couldn’t sleep
anymore, neither day, nor night from being so uncomfortable.
Not because the stretch marks on my
huge belly were running rampid.
I say we, because ever since the conception of our tiny human being
entered the consciousness of Brent and I, it was no longer only about us.
Every thought, every decision, every action, every word that was spoken would
involve this tiny human that shall soon be birthed on Earth.
When I say we were ready, it’s because God deemed us ready and we trust in His
perfect timing.
Brent sprung up from bed and started
frantically cleaning. I admit to laughing out loud at the moment as I
type that out. I constantly fell in love with him over and over
again. He excitedly arranged the living room furniture, making way for
where the birthing tub would be placed in our very small, 700 square foot
condominium. I put my hair up, lightly applied some make-up and put on my
favorite earrings, Brent's very first gift to me.
I called our doula and our midwife, and
let our precious family know that we would soon be graced with the birth of our
daughter. At that moment, Brent and I bowed our heads and
prayed.
Calm and peace surrounded us.
Within 15 minutes, the rushes started
and came at very regular and short intervals, lasting anywhere from 30 seconds
to 2 minutes. Something about the rushes felt so good as I breathed
through them with Brent at my side. I dug into my brain for every little
piece of advice and encouragement that I had acquired from Ina May Gaskin’s
books, Birth Without Fear blogs, and Supernatural Childbirth.
Over the next few hours, I lay in bed
in what the yogis call, child’s pose, as the rushes were becoming so
strong. I had conflicting thoughts. One part of me was hoping that
the rushes would keep coming because that would mean that I was progressing and
our baby would come sooner. However, another part of me thought, you are
absolutely out of your mind.
Around 9 am, I got in the birthing
tub. O sweet birthing tub with its soothing hot water that calmed every
inch of my tense body. I kept laboring and breathing with our wonderful
doula’s help. She kept me calm as the rushes were becoming incredibly
intense. I decided that I wanted our midwife to check my
progression. After checking me, what came out of her mouth was not what I
intended to hear. “Let’s all go for a walk,” she said.
A walk? Wait what?
No. But I’m about to have our baby right this instant?!
No…no, silly you. You just THINK you’re going to have a baby any
moment.
The truth is darling, this is just the beginning.
My body already felt so weary and full of doubt.
What a powerful thing the mind is.
And yes, I call myself darling in my
thoughts.
We walked around Waikiki for 2
hours. I was vulnerable but kind strangers gave me encouraging words as I
would stop and labor on the palm trees that lined our path. I came to
learn that children are very intuitive. They would look at me while
pulling on their mama’s sleeve, “mommy mommy, is that lady about to have a
baby?”
Beauty, blessings, and hope.
We made it back home and I continued to
labor. I would move from the yoga ball, to the birthing chair, to the
commode, and to our bed. Brent moved with me and rubbed my
back.
Jaymie, our doula, would coach me and
breathe with me through each rush. She reminded me to let go of my
fears.
She massaged my feet with coconut oil.
At times, it seemed like I could follow
Jaymie’s breathing patterns and the rushes would feel shorter. Other
times, all I could do was whine, whimper, and make deep sounds because the
rushes were so strong, and seemed to last such a long time.
I tried not to look at the clock.
My only perception of time was looking out of the window and seeing that it was
now dark.
I took about 10 showers total.
Something about the hot water hitting and running down the nape of my neck and
my spine gave me so much relief, but with continued progression.
I kept praying to God to give me the
strength to do this. At this point, I knew I couldn’t do it on my
own. I really wanted to give up. I was so tired.
I fantasized about an epidural. I
fantasized about cutting myself open.
Our midwife and doula decided it was
time to leave to give Brent and I some alone time, for increased oxytocin
flow.
He held me ever so tightly. Ever
so lovingly. We danced. We swayed. He reassured me. He
was so calm.
When they returned, it was obvious that
my body had shifted. I was spoon-fed fruit and yoghurt to acquire energy
for the hard work ahead.
My midwife held me in her arms, like a
mother would hold her daughter, while I sat on the birthing chair, breathing,
and resting, finally. She spoke softly to me and caressed my head and
arms while tears flowed down my face.
I was now drifting.
Floating. Somewhere, near and yet so far away.
I found myself on the outside, looking
in, at a scared little girl in the arms of her mother, longing for the approval
and support that she so desperately wanted for the 9 months that life grew
inside of her.
Her mother told her that she was
strong.
She said, I believe in you.
Sshh…don’t be afraid.
I love you, she whispered.
I am proud of the woman that you have
become.
I watched her vomit during transition
and move to the bed that felt so safe, it was time to push. I heard her
as she made sounds that I’ve only ever heard animals make. The look in her eyes
was so incredibly fierce, like a lion protecting her cubs. The grip on
her husband was with the strength of ten thousand men. Nothing, but at
the same time, everything about her seemed human.
I watched as her sweet husband sipped
his coffee, and calmly reassured her that he could see the baby’s hair.
“Are you sure?” She kept asking.
I stared in amazement as the midwife
put on her headlamp and worked so diligently, but with such a gentle and
delicate touch.
My eyes turned to her doula, such a
tiny person with such strength to withstand the primal determination this woman
had. Every one felt so sure that at this place and time, a baby would be
born. And there she was, one last push and she slipped out at 12:05 am.
With her leaving my body also freed any
memory of the pain, fear, and doubt. Time came to a complete stand
still. My heart exploded with feelings of love for my amazing husband who
so freely and calmly supported me, even when I thought I wanted to give
up. I felt God's presence saying to me that what just happened, here, in
our home, on our bed, the birth of our child, it's significant.
I came back to find myself holding a
little baby. She was ours. Blue, but alive. Perfect.
She had her daddy’s eyes. I didn’t cry, I couldn’t. I just stared
at her, in complete shock.
As every inch of me knew we were having
a baby, she had been a part of me for 10 months. Her every kick, every
movement, every hiccup, all had become rooted down to the deepest part of my
soul. Every single rush that had been coming so regularly for almost 20
hours was so convincing. Yet, a part of me doubted what was really
happening all this time. Looking at our daughter was so real.
Hearing her cry was so real. It felt like a lifetime had passed while it
all went by too quickly.
